The Cry of the Silent
by CatzRuleMe
Summary: A kitten that is born to a Thunderclan couple sparks concern throughout the camp. She cannot meow, which renders communication difficult. She is not expected to be made a warrior or even survive without a voice, but determination pushes her forward.
1. Chapter 1

The silent still of night was shattered by yowls of pain. The owls flew from the earsplitting screeching, and the forest floor moved as mice were startled awake and scuttling through the fallen leaves. The trees blew in the sudden breeze as if they wanted to run away with the animals.

A black-and-white tom ran toward the noise with a tortoiseshell she-cat at his heels. The twosome tracked the scent through the forest near Fourtrees, very much aware what was causing the horrid screaming that sounded like it was trying to wake the whole forest.

"Woodfur knew she should have stayed in camp!" the she-cat grumbled. "How can she go out this late at night knowing that she would be kitting soon?"

"She probably tried to go out on night patrol," the tom guessed. "She had wanted to continue her warrior duties ever since she first found out she was carrying kits. I'm sorry, Spotfur, this is my fault! If I had kept a closer eye on my beloved Woodfur, this wouldn't have happened!"

"It's not your fault, Whitetail," Spotfur reassured him. "And anyway, we shouldn't be worrying about that now; we have to find Woodfur."

Whitetail nodded, and they pressed on. As they sprinted through the bracken, the howling grew louder, and eventually they came into a clearing. A ravine dipped where Fourtrees lay, and a few tail-lengths away from the cliff lay a brown she-cat with a swollen belly.

Spotfur rushed to her aid and meowed: "Take it easy, Woodfur, you're kitting!"

Woodfur yowled once again. "Whitetail! Where's my Whitetail!"

Spotfur hopped back to help deliver Woodfur's kits, and Whitetail crouched beside his mate. "I'm here, Woodfur, my sweet. Relax, our kits will be beautiful."

There was a brief glimmer of delight in the brown she-cat's eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with guilt. "Oh, Whitetail, I'm so sorry! I should have stayed in camp! How could I have been so mouse-brained?"

Whitetail nuzzled Woodfur and meowed: "It's all right. Spotfur's here, and even out of her den she'll do whatever she can for our kits." He was relieved to hear a loud purr rumbling in Woodfur's throat, and he thought of what great warriors their kits would make.

"Here's one," Spotfur meowed, carrying a mewling kit over to Woodfur. The brown she-cat immediately started licking it, letting herself be consumed by motherly instincts.

When the medicine cat had delivered another kit, Whitetail offered to groom it of the fluid that clung to its fur. The kittens squealed nonstop, confused at this new world they had arrived in. When Spotfur announced the birth of the third and final kit, Whitetail listened for another series of squeals, but still only two were heard. Alarmed, he shot a glance at Spotfur, who held a tiny kit who was squirming with its mouth wide open, but nothing came out.

As the kit Whitetail had groomed moved toward its mother's belly to suckle, panic welled inside of him. "Spotfur?"

The medicine cat placed the kit down and tried to press on its belly to get the fluid out, but nothing came. The kit squirmed uncomfortably, but Spotfur pricked her ears and pulled the kit close to her. "Wait a minute…"

"My kit!" Woodfur yelled. "What's wrong with my kit?"

Whitetail looked at his mate and saw that she was staring with scared eyes at Spotfur. The kit she was grooming joined her sibling to suckle, and the noiseless kit was desperate for some milk as well.

"She's breathing," Spotfur meowed, confused. Usually when a kit is born but it doesn't cry, there is fluid in its throat that a medicine cat can push out with ease. But this kit had no fluid in its throat. Whitetail and Woodfur shot each other a confused look, and Spotfur finally allowed the silent kit to stumble over to the warmth of its mother's belly and suckle.

"She'll live, but I would like to observe her more closely," Spotfur proposed.

The three cats fell silent, and the only sound to be heard was the soft, muffled noise of three cats suckling. There was something wrong with one of the kits, but Whitetail had a strange feeling that she would become a better warrior than the rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry these first few chapters are so short. Hopefully I'll be able to write some longer ones once the plot thickens.

* * *

><p>Quietkit gasped in shock as Palekit suddenly pounced her. She didn't hear her brother coming, and she was still shivering as she tussled with him for a few heartbeats before he hopped off of her.<p>

"Did you see that, Quietkit?" Palekit meowed. "Wetpelt says that I'm really light on my paws; the prey won't see me coming. It won't be long before we're made apprentices, and I'll be the best apprentice of all. I might become a warrior in the same night!"

"Don't get your hopes up," their mother interrupted from the entrance to the nursery. "You have to go through intense training before you can prove yourself a fine warrior. I had to train for seven moons before I was made a warrior!"

"Well at least I'll _be_ a warrior," Palekit retorted. "Quietkit will never even be an apprentice! Coalpelt says so!"

"Do not speak about your sister that way!" Woodfur scolded. "I don't care what the other cats say; Quietkit will be a great warrior, just like you and Foxkit."

Palekit rolled his eyes. "Whatever." A leaf fluttered in the wind a few tail-lengths away, and he ran away to grab it.

Quietkit felt a pang of sadness well up inside of her. She had dreamed so immensely of becoming a warrior. As a kit, she would suckle on her mother's warm milk and picture her naming ceremony; Hawkstar would give her a warrior's name and all the clan would be chanting it and she would share tongues with her clanmates in celebration. But she would not even be an apprentice. And all because she had no voice…

"You'll be a warrior someday, Quietkit," Woodfur meowed, having caught Quietkit's disappointment. "I know you will."

Quietkit wanted to believe her. It didn't seem right that she would be held back from a warrior status because she could not speak. But the other cats treated her with such distain that she couldn't bring herself to be hopeful.

Quietkit felt herself being knocked to the ground for the second time, but this time she felt a rush of adrenaline; she flailed and kicked until she rolled over, jumped and twisted in midair and pinned her pursuer to the ground. Her sister Foxkit squirmed in her grip until Quietkit released her and sent her running to their mother.

"Quietkit!" Woodfur yowled. "I said you could be a warrior, but could you be a little nicer to your siblings!"

"Wait, Woodfur…"

Quietkit turned her head to see Hawkstar approaching. The ThunderClan leader seated himself next to Quietkit and looked down at her. "That was impressive," he meowed. "You would make a fine warrior, young Quietkit. Who needs a voice for that?"

Quietkit almost felt confident, but she knew that no warrior would want her as an apprentice. They have made that very clear, sneering at her whenever her mother wasn't looking and even trash-talking her over a piece of fresh-kill.

It wasn't too long before Quietkit and her siblings were six moons old, according to the enthusiastic Palekit. She had heard both from a distance and to her face that she would never become an apprentice, so why was Hawkstar telling her she'd make a great warrior?

Then it occurred to her: Hawkstar had never told her she would never become an apprentice; just all the warriors and some apprentices who have caught on. Did that mean there was a naming ceremony in it for her?

Quietkit was excited and worried at the same time. She wanted with all her heart to be a warrior. But she knew she wouldn't be treated kindly by her mentor. She realized with dread that she would feel terrible whatever happened, so what was the point?

Then she had an idea. _I'll show them. I'll work super hard till I'm twice as good as the other apprentices. Then they'll see. I don't need a voice. All I need is to prove myself better than any cat in this whole clan!_


	3. Chapter 3

Quietkit's mother had groomed her so thoroughly she thought that her fur had been permanently flattened to her body. But she was proved wrong when Hawkstar's unexpectedly loud yowl sounded from the top of the Highrock, and her hackles shot straight up in fright.

"Oh, Quietkit," her mother said, amused. The dark brown she-cat padded over and quickly rasped her tongue over Quietkit's back to push her fur back down.

"Tonight we gather for the naming of our new apprentices!" Hawkstar yelled from outside. As Quietkit's mother led her and her siblings outside, the ThunderClan leader beckoned them over with his tail. Palekit and Foxkit bounded over to the base of the Highrock where Frostpelt, the ThunderClan deputy, sat waiting.

Hawkstar hopped down from the massive rock and met up with Frostpelt at the bottom. Quietkit hung back, unsure of whether or not she should approach. But Hawkstar looked over and said: "You too, Quietkit."

Quietkit's heart started to thud, and she felt sudden discomfort from the murmur among the cats as she trudged awkwardly to the base of the Highrock.

The ThunderClan leader started with Palekit. "Until he earns his warrior name, this apprentice will be known as Palepaw." Quietkit's brother let out a meow of delight, and Hawkstar turned toward the other cats. "Longear, you have had many apprentices so far. I expect you to continue your quality teachings with Palepaw here."

"Yes, Hawkstar." The tall, big-eared golden tabby padded over and touched noses with Palepaw. Both cats looked excited for the training days to come.

The dark brown-pelted leader continued, gesturing towards Quietkit's sister with his tail. "And this apprentice shall be known as Foxpaw." The little ginger she-cat glanced shyly at the cats and started kneading the ground nervously. Hawkstar followed her gaze. "Flowerpool, your desire for an apprentice of your own shows strong. I expect you to use your determination and strive to be the mentor you have always dreamed of being."

Excited and full of energy, the tortoiseshell she-cat bounced over and touched noses with Foxpaw.

"And last but not least," Hawkstar continued, "this apprentice will be known as Quietpaw."

The cats started murmuring again, and Quietpaw felt extremely uncomfortable. She knew what was coming, but she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to take it.

"How can she be an apprentice?" someone called out. "She can't even speak!"

The dark brown leader flicked his tail irritably at the cats watching in front of him. "One does not need the ability of speech to be a warrior. What this young kit lacks in voice, she makes up for a thousand times over in her spirit."

Quietpaw felt a brief swell of hope, but it was quickly diminished when the argument persisted.

"But how is she going to be able to communicate with her mentor? How will they know if she's learning if she can't tell them what she knows?"

"Well, Brokentooth, you'll have to figure that out between the two of you," Hawkstar replied, "because I'm making you Quietpaw's mentor."

"What!" The pale brown-pelted tom emitted an audible growl, baring his teeth and exposing a broken stub that was once a sharp fang. "Why me?"

"You have had many apprentices," Hawkstar answered. "Sometimes you managed two at once. If you can take on multiple apprentices, you can certainly teach one with a minor problem."

"But she can't talk!" Brokentooth protested, as if he were sure that there was logic in it that Hawkstar would see.

"Then perhaps that would make her a good listener," Hawkstar half-yelled. "I am making her your apprentice and that's final!"

The broken-toothed warrior snorted in exasperation, but padded over and touched noses with Quietpaw. There was something dark about the brown tom's touch, and it sent the hairs on Quietpaw's back up again. His breath was hot, and she felt as if she were being swept deep into a sea of fire.

The ceremony was over; cats tightened into groups and started sharing tongues while Hawkstar retreated to his den. Quietpaw's siblings squealed joyously with their new mentors, who looked at them with much admiration.

Quietpaw peered back at Brokentooth. His eyes burned like green fire as they stared unblinking at her. She had never seen such rage, such hatred. His uneven teeth showed as he growled: "We start at dawn. Don't be late."

And with that the brown warrior got up and padded over to the warrior's den, abandoning Quietpaw in the deep shadows of the Highrock. She wanted more than anything to run after him and rip his fur out.

But she just sat. She sat…in silence.


End file.
